


four liters of fallian marsh gas

by gwmclintock88



Series: Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster - Skimmons Week 2015 [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Day 4 Prompt, Domestic, F/F, Skimmons Week, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4908247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwmclintock88/pseuds/gwmclintock88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Dripping water hollows out a stone, not through force, but through persistence.' Jemma didn't understand what that truly meant until someone starts leaving her tea in the mornings.  And it kept happening, even after things went crazy twice-fold. </p><p>She didn't realize it until it was too late, but she found herself falling in love. One mug of tea at a time.</p><p>(Skimmons Week - Day 4 Prompt: Domestic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	four liters of fallian marsh gas

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if I am hitting the target on this one, but it seems worthwhile to me. That side, I avoided season 3 spoilers for the most part, and hopefully kept things in line with the characters. Also, I like this idea a lot and may come back to it to flesh out the story more. Of course, this just adds more stories to my plate. Oh Well. 
> 
> Also, the quote is from Ovid. 
> 
> Let me know what you think and if I got the character voices right.

            Jemma wasn’t sure when it started, but it was sometime during the first year. When they still were on the bus, and they were still young idealists, and things were crazy with HYDRA, superpowers, alien rocks, aliens, and governmental intrusions. Things were simpler then, but she still couldn’t pinpoint when it started. Maybe that’s the point.

            Love isn’t a single moment but what we build.

            Normally, she didn’t like anything in her lab. If she wanted to eat or drink, she would go to the kitchenette or somewhere else, but she left the area to prevent cross contamination (this never happened even if she had food there or someone else did). She took care of herself for years, so when someone left her a cup of a tea at her station she should have noticed it.  The tea wasn’t exactly to her tastes, but fairly close and a good effort for someone who wasn’t her.

            Only when she went down slightly earlier than normal did she catch her tea-giver red-handed: Skye froze when Jemma spotted her, mug of still steaming tea in her hand. No one to her recollection took the time to ever do something so wonderful so silently.

            “Thank you,” Jemma said, and without another thought, kissed Skye’s cheek. As she took her first sip, she hid her smile at the blush staining Skye’s cheeks. The steam from the mug wafted upward, letting her breath deeply the aromatic sensations of home.  Yes, just a little more heat. “Will you be working down here today?”

            Skye’s eyes grew wide. “Can I?”

            “Yes, why couldn’t you?” Jemma wrapped both hands around the mug, letting the heat seep into her body. Skye glanced away, shifting her balance. “Skye, if I made it seem like you weren’t wanted here -”

            “No. No, not that. It’s just…I’m not one of you,” Skye said, finally looking away from a set of beakers off to her right. Jemma placed the mug on the table, trying  hold back the little bit of anger that sparked in her. Skye was one of them, and damn anyone who said otherwise. She reached out, gripping Skye’s arm by her elbow.

            “You may not have gone to the Academy, but you are one of us,” Jemma said. Skye stared at her, the blush returning in full force. “So, once you’re done with your training, you’ll work here today.”

            “Okay,” Skye drew out the word, her face morphing into a smile.

            Jemma turned to her station, lifting a petri dish up to check the sample. “And there might be a cup of coffee waiting for you. Best not let it get cold.” She shot the last part over her shoulder, offering Skye a smile.

            The younger girl hurried off, heading back up to her bunk presumably to change for her session with Ward. If Jemma spent as much time that day watching Skye as she pummeled the bag as she did on her slides, well, that was her business wasn’t it? Besides, when Skye extended with a punch, her entire body shifted, providing an amazing view of a very tight backside.

            The exchange of tea and coffee in the morning became their thing. Every day for their stay on the Bus, a perfect cup of tea appeared at her station, and every day Skye could work with them, a cup of coffee was ready for her. Jemma refused to admit that perfecting the cup took more time than Skye needed to determine her preferences. Of course, this had to do with Skye drinking the whole cup every time, even the one time she mistook the salt for sugar.  Her apologies fell on to smiles, as Skye just shrugged it off and continued leaving her tea.

            Not even HYDRA stopped their routine, though for her brief undercover stint did. She found solace in the exchange. Even when her relationship with Fitz fizzled and popped, and nearly imploded because they couldn’t talk about anything anymore, Skye was there with a cup a tea in the morning, and she was there for her cup of coffee in the afternoon. The steady presence of her friendship, of her body kept her grounded amidst the turmoil of the year.  The exchange brought her a sense of happiness she usually only received while in bed with another. Not the exact same of course, because why would a cup of tea be equivalent to a good orgasm?

            Even when Jemma reacted like a total bitch to Skye (though she only admitted that now after everything that happened since returning from wherever she was), Skye left her a cup of perfect tea.  Not that they had a lot of time together, but every morning, the mug rested at her station, still steaming, with no Skye in sight.

            Except for the last God knows how many days.  

            Coulson and Fitz explained only three months passed by here, but on whatever world or plane she was one, it felt like ages. No friends, no weapons, no help. And just as they pulled her out, no hope.

            “Oh.” This was the first actual day back at SHIELD, not counting all the time she spent in quarantine, debriefing about the monolith, and discussing the alien world informally. She even managd several awkward yet personal conversations with Fitz. They were strained, not as much as last year, but definitely things were different between them. With Bobbi still recovering from Ward’s attack on her, she found herself in the unlikely role of field agent. So instead of the lab, she proceeded a conference room where Coulson debriefed everyone.

            There, in the spot she would have chosen was a mug. Her mug, filled with steaming tea. No one else was in the room, and nothing else indicated someone was in the room. But a mug was there, her mug, filled with tea, presumably her tea.

            Jemma glanced around the room and moved to the spot, her spot. She placed her tablet beside the mug before taking it in both her hands.  Time remained meaningless as she held the warm mug in her hands. She breathed in the tea, feeling it fill her senses as she thought back to every other morning spent in her lab.

            “Simmons. I hear you’ll be working with us?” She turned to see Mac standing in the doorway.

            She bit her lip. “That won’t be a problem, will it?”

            “Long as you pass the field tests, no skin off my back,” Mac said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Coulson mentioned you’re on the Index.”

            “Yes,” Jemma said, dropping her gaze back to her tea. “Unfortunately.”

            “It’s not the end of the world, Jem.” She fumbled the mug at Skye-Daisy’s voice (the new name threw her for a bit, as did the haircut – which Jemma definitely did not spend time staring at thank you very much). Tea spilt onto her hands. It was only out of instinct that she pulled her hands back. The sensations were there, dull, but there. She learned to ignore them while she was away. There were things there she couldn’t explain and the dullness forced her past any injury. There were other explanations to this change in physical perception.  

If her senses weren’t dull, her body became resistant. The tea burns looked like nothing more than a sun burn, and she knew that would be gone within the day. All of Bobbi’s pocking and prodding only highlighted the changes to her body’s healing. She needed more answers, but she needed to feel normal more.

“We’ve got a lead, everyone take a seat.” Coulson walked into the room, throwing whatever was on his tablet onto the screen. Any thoughts about her changes disappeared as the information of HYDRA took precedence.  She sipped the remaining tea in the mug, ignoring the slick sensations indicating something wet was on her hands. Eyes were on her, Mac’s and Sk-Daisy’s, but she ignored those too. There would be time for answers later. If she ever wanted them.

Jemma split her focus between Coulson’s debrief and the mug in her hands. She remembered the heat as it was, the smells were still there and possible stronger, but the pain of the burn didn’t matter to her much anymore. The gift of the tea did.

            In fact, the rest of her day, even the parts spent chasing and tackling the Inhuman who could walk through walls (consequently tackling the man through the wall of a women’s dressing room), she let part of her brain contemplate the tea and the mug.

            As it were, the mug kept reappearing. Jemma slowly adjusted to her new lot in life as a rather effective field agent, though she certainly preferred the lab, and the mug still remained a constant. Every morning, at her section of the lab, she’d find the mug, and no Daisy in sight. Well, at least not immediately.

            “Thought I’d find you here,” Jemma said, still holding her steaming mug. Daisy stood just outside a containment unit for one of their newest arrivals. At any given time there were two or three at different stages within the compound. Most ended up being quite thankful for SHIELD’s assistance, which alleviated some of the tension Jemma experienced about the Index.

            “Just making sure she’s sleeping okay,” Daisy spoke softly. Jemma turned to see the small girl, no more than ten laying on the bed. Someone snuck in a teddy bear for her, giving her something to hold onto while they figured out how to help her.

            It seems that the girl, Rachel, could manipulate electro-magnetic fields. She nearly killed her foster parents when the powers emerged (they died anyway due to expose to Terrigen in their fish). Daisy and Mac got to her first, bringing her here before the ATCU could.

            “She looks peaceful,” Jemma said. Her hands twitched and for a moment, the memory of her mother brushing the hair out of her face to wake her up for school resurfaced. “Do you…”

            “Bobbi’s working on something right now,” Daisy said, offering her a smile. “And I already spoke to Joey about helping her. As much as part of me wants to keep her here –“

            “You know you wouldn’t be able to raise a kid right now.” Jemma took a sip of the tea, taking the moment to think.  Having children never was something outside the abstract to her, but watching her now and knowing how she was with Ace Peterson, Daisy would make a great mom someday. “Daisy.”

            “Hmmm?” She turnd her body but kept her eyes on Rachel.

            “Why have you kept preparing my tea?” Jemma would swear that she blushed a little.

            “Because it’s what we do,” Daisy said, shrugging her shoulders.

            Jemma bit her lip and stared at the rapidly diminishing amount of tea. “But why?” She felt Daisy’s eye on her, but when she looked back up at her, Daisy returned to staring at Rachel.

            After several silent, but somehow not awkward moments, Daisy spoke. “You know, a lot of people have trouble communicating. On a lot of different things. Sometimes it’s an issue of timing – someone says something too soon or not soon enough. Like you and Fitz it seems.”

            “What about us?” Jemma arched an eyebrow at the question.

            “You can’t seem to get your timing down, what with the whole trapped under the ocean, then spygate, then the monolith,” Daisy said, giving her a half-smile. Her eyes flashed of pain but she turned back to watch Rachel sleeping instead of her. “You two just can’t seem to get things right.”

            “We’re getting there.”

            “To having an actual conversation about it, or still ignoring it.” The ‘it’ was unspoken, but Jemma wasn’t surprised Daisy knew about Fitz’s declarations for her and her muddled feelings for him.

            “We’re reaching the point where ‘it’ will be discussed.” Daisy nodded, but still didn’t look at her.

            “Other people, well, they can’t even have awkward conversations. They’ve got to go about it in other, roundabout ways. As if the action itself conveys the message rather than any words. Or maybe the words are just insufficient?” She crossed her arms, hugging herself as Rachel stirred in the unit. “I never was taught how to…communicate like normal people I guess. It was just easy to let my actions talk.”

            “You do alright as the Welcome Wagon,” Jemma pointed out.

            “That’s different, that…shared terror of experiences. What I’m talking about is…you know how sometimes something is too big to say so you just either ignore it and hope it goes away, or you sublimit it into some other action?”

            Jemma hesitated to say anything. She stared down at the mug that was filled for her every day. The mug with her perfectly made tea. She gripped it, not hard enough to shatter the mug that gave her stability in the face of all this change, but definitely hard enough to feel more of the heat through her still slightly dulled senses.

            The tea was there, which meant Skye/Daisy was always there for her. No matter what problems she was having, or how she was feeling, Daisy prepared tea for her. Even if she fought with her, the tea was still there, meaning it was more important than the fight. Jemma hadn’t learned that lesson until right now it seemed.

            “Like making the perfect tea?” Jemma said, her voice cracking and turning it into a question. Daisy didn’t seem to notice, she was too focused on the child.

            “Like making the perfect tea,” Daisy whispered. She shook her head again, shaking off this conversation. Jemma didn’t want to leave it but Rachel was waking up. “I better get in there. You think Bobbi will have figured something out?”

            “If not, Fitz will, and if he hasn’t, then I definitely well.” Her words released some of the tension Daisy held in her body.

            “Thank you Jemma,” Daisy said, finally turning her entire body to face her completely. “I just…she’s going to be scared and I want to help her before it gets too bad.”

            “And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Jemma said, reaching out to take Daisy’s hand. “You wouldn’t be my Daisy if you didn’t care.”

            “Your Daisy?” She teased. Jemma ducked her head, hiding behind her hair for a moment before sucking it up. Gryffindor courage, or at least, she hoped to have that.

            “Yes, my Daisy,” she said, leaning in to dare to give Daisy a kiss on the check. “Thank you for the cup.” She headed out, needing to go through her own training before working in the lab.

            That didn’t mean that she forgot her end of the ritual: A cup of coffee appeared for Daisy around mid-day with a sticky-note on it and a message at the bottom. If the smile planted on Daisy’s face meant anything, then she appreciated both notes when she visited that evening.

            “You know I can’t let anyone use my favorite mug now,” Daisy said, leaning against the frame to her room.

            “You better not,” Jemma said, not looking up from a report on the bioelectric capacity generated by Lincoln.  

            “Liked the note too.”

            “I should hope so.”

            “‘Sometimes the smallest actions speak the loudest.’ Sounds very fortune cookie.” Her bed dipped, forcing Jemma to look up. Her head nearly crashed into Daisy’s smiling face.

            “Well, it was that or ‘Dripping water hollows out stone, not through force but persistence.’”  Jemma let her gaze drop to Daisy’s very close lips.

            “Liked yours better,” Daisy said, her smile now becoming coy. “And I’m glad you finally figured it out.”

            “Well, it just happens some people communicate in very odd ways.” Jemma watched a little bit of pink tongue slip out to wet Daisy’s lips. She bit her own, trying not to give into impulse.

            “They do, so let’s go with the old fashion one.” Daisy reached up, cupping the back of her neck and bring her slowly in for a kiss. Their lips just softly once, twice before Jemma moved her own hands off her bed spread to pull Daisy harder against her. She pulled back slightly. “That message clear?”

            “I’m going to need it a few more times, just to be sure.” Jemma said over the pounding of her heart.

            “Sometimes loud actions work too,” Daisy whispered before resuming their snog. The last coherent thought Jemma had was how right she was.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing, which is sad, but I get to play in their world, which is good. The Season 2 Finale definitely happened, which is sad, but it helped build this wonderful story, which is good.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Good night, and good luck.


End file.
